


kiss me, try to fix it.

by falsettolands



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Sharing a Bed, i wasn't going to write fluff but i'm weak, marvins an asshole but he's sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:04:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsettolands/pseuds/falsettolands
Summary: a look into how marvin & whizzer lived without each other.a look into how marvin & whizzer love each other.





	kiss me, try to fix it.

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to sad beautiful tragic by t*ylor sw*ft to get the mood for this fic.  
> enjoy ;)

The buzz of the neon sign above Marvin was the only indication that he was still alive. His body and mind felt detached, like two things that'd never come to pass. He couldn't wrap his brain around a thought and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. The air was cool; unusually so for this early in August. The sky was dark and yet the stars weren't shining, he lived his whole life in New York, had he ever even seen stars? 

"Whizzer" Marvin breathed through a drunken sigh. 

It was sappy and cliché but not a joke. Whizzer was the only thing that shone as brightly as a star in Marvin's life. And even that had gone out. 

He felt his back slip down the rough brick wall and he landed on his bottom and squelched a gasp. He was drunk and he couldn't tell if the adrenaline in his veins was the whiskey or his anxiety. And the only thing on his mind was Whizzer. 

He couldn't tell you how many times he said the name out loud, anyone passing by would have assumed he was just a crazy drunk. Maybe they weren't far from the truth.

Two years; that's how long it had been. Since Whizzer finally slammed the door one last time. Marvin thought for sure he'd come back, sometimes he still leaves the light on.

It had been Marvin's fault. His physcratrist (his new one, of course) told him not to blame himself for everything; but this was different. This was wholeheartedly, undoubtedly, all his fault. The hurtful words he had said to the man he loved spilled out of his mouth like acidic bile. They always left a bad taste in Marvin's mouth after they left his lips. 

So there he was, drinking himself into oblivion at 6 p.m on a Monday. He was supposed to have work the next day but the hangover that was already forming was not going to be slept off in that amount of time. So, he stayed there, his head in his hands and an empty Jim Beam bottle by his feet. He looked like an alcohol prevention stock photo. 

In his peripheral version he saw a pair of chelsea boots stop beside him. He almost hit himself for noticing how much they looked like Whizzer's. 

"…Marvin?" 

The voice was as soft as honey but had the string of a bee as well. He was still just as soft and caring but one wrong move and Marvin would be stung. He felt his clamy hand drop and his head raise. He felt like the world was in slow motion. 

"Shit, Marvin you look awful" 

"Thanks" 

He rose to his feet and Whizzer tried to help but Marvin swatted at his hands. He wanted to hold them so bad but the walls that were built between we're too high. His head was telling him how dumb it'd be if he was anything but an asshole. That voice had been dying ever since Whizzer left; it was so quiet now. 

"I'm sorry Marvin but i'm not letting you walk around like this, where's your car?" 

Marvin planted the keys in Whizzer's hands and pointed in the direction of the parking lot. 

-

Whizzer woke up the next morning without a hangover; but he felt like he had one. A headache split his forehead and he felt a twisted knot build in his stomach. He was in his apartment and not in Marvin's bed which was something short of an miracle. He hadn't even drank a drop last night but it still took several minutes for the hazy pieces of last night to become clear. Marvin spilling his guts to Whizzer; figuratively and later, literally. He slurred about how much he missed him, how his life had been hallow without him. That he was alright, that he was living, breathing, and sometimes laughing; but he was still getting drunk and yelling Whizzer's name into the dark. 

He remeber cutting Marvin off during his apologies (which never seemed to end) with his own lips. He couldn't tell if it was good thing until he saw black ink on the back of his hand. 

A phone number. 

- 

He _hated_ Marvin. He hated Marvin so much he loved him (even as pretentious as it sounded.) He was complicated and hard to love but when they did love it was so strong and so beautiful it out shined the bad.

The two years without Marvin were _fine_. He was _fine_. He had to keep telling himself that or else he'd be afraid he wouldn't be anymore. He surrounded himself with people who he knew didn't care about him.

The men he surrounded himself with were worse. They didn't care if Whizzer was dead or alive. He'd gotten into a toxic, monotonous routine of fucking and crying. The boy would leave and Whizzer would lie in bed and cry. He hated having to feel a body on his to feel whole. 

He hated that after every single one night stand he wanted to call Marvin. He wanted Marvin to apologize so he could take him back in a heart beat. He'd wake with dreams of calls unanswered and Marvin never changing; which was always a possibility. 

That was the reason why he left in the first place. After nine months Marvin and Whizzer's relationship consisted of sex and fighting. He knew nothing would change. 

But maybe he had changed. Maybe he'd call Whizzer up and apologize and tell him he loved him and how much he wanted to see him; shower him with compliments.

Or maybe he wouldn't and he'd yell at Whizzer for not smiling, not cooking well enough and winning at chess. 

Still, Whizzer didn't wash off the number on his hand, he wrote it down, too. 

- 

Marvin was drinking and Whizzer was in bed with someone whose name he couldn't remember. It was a Wednesday. 

Soon enough Marvin ran out of beer and the boy left. 

Two hours passed.

Marvin's phone rang jolting him awake. 

Whizzer was crying on the other end. 

"I can't do it anymore, Marvin, it all feels so empty! everything feels so empty!" 

His voice was hiccuping and he kept sputtering words like "stupid" "fuck" and "i can't do it i can't do it i can't do it" 

"Where are you, baby" his voice was rough but as sweet as sugar. Whizzer smiled through tears as he told him his address. 

- 

They were tangled in each other and the sheets of Whizzer's bed. They hadn't slept with each other in the sexual sense. In the literal sense though, Marvin had held Whizzer all night. He held him until Whizzer had stopped crying. Marvin let himself be held; Whizzer held him until the apologies stopped. 

Marvin pressed a kiss on Whizzer's head, and his cheek and his nose, his neck, his shoulder, his lips. 

They rolled onto their backs took each other in. Marvin looked at Whizzer like he had won the lottery; because he had, in all honesty. He looked down lovingly at the boy laying in his arms. His boy. His Whizzer. 

The only thing illuminating the room was the red numbers of the alarm clock the read 3:34 a.m. 

The balmy scents of late summer wafted in the room and engulfed them both. The moonlight washed the sheets and the boys wrapped in them. 

"You're mine" Marvin whispered through chapped lips brushing against Whizzer's. 

"I'm yours" 

And looking up at the sky that night Marvin could've swore he saw stars.

fin 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this instead of sleeping so it's probably shit but that's okay.  
> kudos & comments make me happy cry :")


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